Wymridge 1421 Campaign
by Belmakori
Summary: This will be the home for my short pieces/cut scenes for my current Forgotten Realms campaign.
1. Chapter 1: Lady Veleno

Skirting the mountain range to their south, several dogsled teams raced across the bleak white landscape. Each sled held several beings wrapped in brown fur, while one man stood at the back, holding the reigns, and barking orders to the teams of dogs tethered to each sled.

One rather lithe figure, wrapped in white fur raised a gloved hand, motioning for the sled to stop. As the handler pulled back on the reigns, stopping the sled, she got up and stepped towards a large cavern. Situated at the base of one of the largest mountains of the Lugsaas Chain, Mt. Okk stretched into the cloud covering above, its peak lost from view.

Peering up at the mountain, she took off a pair of goggles she'd been wearing and blinked slowly. Her travelling companions took the brief respite to stand and stretch their legs, slowly working out the kinks they had acquired from the day's journey. The wind suddenly picked up and small bits of snow began to whip around the scattered group. The woman made her way slowly towards the mouth of the cavern.

The blowing snow and howling wind seemed to have no effect on her. A tuft of her black hair managed to escape from her fur lined hood and fell across her pale, yet beautiful features. Catching the late afternoon sun, her green eyes sparkled as she managed to tuck her hair back into place with her thick glove.

She glanced back at her companions as they stomped their feet and rubbed their arms, trying to stay warm. She noticed one of the Iulutiun handlers was pointing to her, speaking in in his native tongue. She smiled at him before turning back to face the cavern. She couldn't understand a word he'd said.

One of her entourage, a rather large brute who nearly towered over her, walked up, the snow crunching loudly with each step. Mumbling behind his thick scarf, his words muffled, she gave no indication she heard him.

Tapping her shoulder, he pointed to his face and pulling down his scarf, he revealed his yellowed tusks and protruding lower jaw. He quickly repeated himself.

"Tulu recommends you put your goggles back on before you become snow blind, Milady."

Ignoring her orc bodyguard's statement, she instead crossed her arms, smiling smugly, "This is the cavern, Hersh, this is the cavern. After all these weeks, we've finally found it."

Turning to look at the cavern, he asked, "Are you sure? There are hundreds of caverns around this area."

She nodded emphatically," I can feel it in my bones. A tingling that I can't explain."

"That may be Milady, but I'd like to remind you that we only have a few hours of daylight left. We'll need that time to build some shelters," he argued quietly.

"This is the cavern," she replied confidently, nodding her head slowly, her eyes still sparkling.

He noted the position of the sun and sighed. They would need at least four hours to build the shelters. If this wasn't the cavern, they'd not have enough time. At what point do you disobey your employer, he wondered, when their own safety was concerned?

He noticed the sparkle in her eye and realized he'd never seen that before. Speaking softly, she raised a gloved hand and pointed at the cavern. She'd never done that before, he thought. He felt a powerful force of energy suddenly surround her. He shivered, not from the cold, but from fear. He steadied himself for a moment before asking reluctantly, "Shall I send in the scouts?"

Her voice took on an edge of authority and power when she responded to his question. He'd never heard her speak like this and it startled him.

"Please do. Remind them we are here to parley, not to fight. Birgyth, Lady of the White Wastes, would not appreciate us decimating her attendants."

"Anything else?"

"Kill the Iulutiuns and corral the dogs. We'll be needing them to get off this accursed glacier. We won't be returning the way we came. Your hobgoblin warriors should be able to handle the sleds from here on out."

Offering a stiff bow, he replied, "As you wish, Lady Veleno."

* * *

Tulu worked quickly in the darkness. Unable to use his left arm, he struggled to set the harness on the dogs he'd managed to coax from the pen inside the cavern. He was thankful they were as loyal as his father had told him they were. Many of them he and his family had raised since they were pups. If not for them, he'd never make it back to his village.

He winced when he bumped his arm against the wooden grip of his sled. He was more than sure his arm was either dislocated, broken or both. The pain was unbearable, and he struggled not to cry out while adjusting the harnesses.

He thought of tying it to his torso, since it just hung there, getting in the way. He knew he should keep it immobile, but he didn't have time for such a luxury. The temperatures were plummeting, and he needed to get moving. Time was now his enemy, as much as anything else found prowling around on the glacier at night.

He'd been cutting blocks of snow for a shelter when the Hobgoblins had attacked. He'd managed to escape the ensuing massacre and had thought himself lucky, but he wasn't expecting the kobold standing guard just inside the cave. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun. The small reptilian creature wouldn't be telling anymore campfire stories. Tulu grimaced at what he'd done. He hated killing, but he had no choice, it had been either the creature or him.

During the scuffle is when he'd slipped and fallen, landing on his left arm. He berated himself for not noticing the icy patch. This was his world, his environment. He then chastised himself for feeling foolish, when he should be more concerned with surviving through the night.

Finishing with the harness, he got onto the sled. With a quick flick of the reigns and whistle from him, the dogs quickly broke into a run. Heading back the way he had come earlier that day, he only had one thought. Escape. Survival was a close second.

* * *

Lady Veleno stood in front of the large, cold, iron door. Staring at the runes inscribed upon it, she pondered the meaning of each rune. Pulling out a small folded sheet of paper, she glanced at it before looking back up at the door. She felt a presence next to her, casting a quick glance to her side, she wasn't surprised to see Hesh standing beside her.

"Have you figured it out yet?" he said in a hushed tone.

"No, not yet. I must choose carefully. This has already proven to be a very deadly puzzle trap," she said motioning to the still twitching body of one of the hobgoblins lying on the floor.

Hesh nodded solemnly.

"This is where the Vaasan wizards established their ice castle nearly 300 years ago," she motioned towards the door, "When they weren't plotting to conquer Vaasa, they would challenge each other with puzzles, riddles and all manner of games. It's what many believe may have contributed to their downfall."

"I thought they were evil?" the Orc questioned.

"They were. They seemed to play for keeps," she said, motioning again to the dead hobgoblin.

The Orc mercenary squinted at the runes.

"Are you sure each rune represents a letter of the Draconic alphabet?" he asked.

"Yes. Look at the filigree on the edges of the door. It depicts all manner of dragons. I'm sure this puzzle was one of Pergatoki the Sorcerer's. It was thought the blood of dragons ran through his veins. I've read that he preferred the tongue of Dragons over the tongue of Man."

The Orc nodded, standing quiet for a few minutes before finally clearing his throat.

"Why don't we ask one of Birgyth's whelps? Maybe they know something?"

"No," she said shaking her head, "those two wouldn't know anything. Birgyth is too stupid to comprehend things of this nature. She doesn't have it in her to solve complex riddles or puzzles, otherwise, she would've already solved it. No, I've got to solve this before she returns."

"I agree. Once she realizes the escaping Iulutiun doesn't have her missing Ioun Stone," he said patting a small pouch on his belt, "she'll realize we tricked her. She'll be furious. There's not enough of us to take her down if it comes to a fight."

"I realize that. Keep the stone safe. I should have this solved in a few minutes."

"Understood, Milady," he said, bowing.

A few moments later, with her eyes glowing, she suddenly lunged forward and pressed one of the runes. With a loud creak and groan, the door slowly slid open. Within the small chamber floated two weapons, bathed in a bright blue light. The walls of the chamber were solid ice, bright blue in color. A blast of cold air assaulted the duo as they stood there.

Lady Veleno smiled triumphantly while the Orc mercenary stared in wide-eyed wonder.

"You did it," he breathed softly.

"I sure did," she replied smugly.

"What now?" he asked quietly.

"Get in there and use the pick. I need a full barrel of the pure blue ice. Be quick about yourself."

"What about the weaponry?" he asked distractedly.

"Don't touch them. I'm not sure if the curse the runes spoke about deal with just the door or if it involves the weapons too."

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose," mumbled the Orc.

Turning from the chamber, Lady Veleno began to bark orders to the gathered pack of hobgoblins.

"Get the sleds ready. We're leaving."


	2. Chapter 2: Lady Dragonette

A crash of thunder followed by a bright flash of light illuminated the dark, two-story manor. The steady cadence of rain splashed across the silver colored roof, cascading off the tiles like a waterfall. The sudden downpour seemed to distort the flickering illumination coming from one lone window on the second floor.

Dancing across the logs, the fire crackled and raged. Glowing with a mixture of red and white, one of the logs suddenly split in half, screeching wickedly. The fire flared, hissing loudly, as a flurry of sparks drifted lazily up towards the flue.

A womanly figure with long black hair, reclined in a chair, her feet propped up on a small, padded stool. Sitting beside the roaring fireplace and holding a rather large book, she carefully ran one long finger, tipped with a bright red nail, down the lettering on the page. Muttering to herself, she stopped near the bottom of the page and furrowed her brows.

She read aloud the passage that had disquieted her, "'_…and Craer doth smote the black drake with his lance, a gift from the goddess herself._'"

"Balderdash!" she growled loudly, "The Red Lady would never have bequeathed such a weapon to that mongrel!"

The fire flared again, as the log broke into several more pieces. Turning from her book, the woman removed a pair of spectacles and turned to stare into the fire.

"Is that all you got?" she asked mockingly.

In response, the fire briefly roared again, before settling back down.

"That's what I thought," she muttered, before replacing her spectacles and returning to her book. She poured over the passage again, letting the words tumble through her mind.

Several flames flickered contemptuously toward her when there was a sudden knock at the door. Irritated, she slammed the book shut, dropping it onto the floor. Removing her spectacles yet again, she set them on a small table next to her. Rising, she made her way to the door, opening it roughly. She wasn't surprised to find Felvar, one of her stewards, standing before her.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Milady, but you have a guest," he said hastily, trying to avoid her angry gaze.

"It's late, Felvar. Who would come calling at this hour and in this weather?" her ire punctuated by another rumble of thunder.

"Zalath Deckord, Milady."

"Send him away. I don't have time for any of his childish games," she stated angrily.

"He claims it is of the utmost … importance," her steward said, timidly.

"Oh, he does, does he? His inflated sense of self-importance is infuriating to say the least," she said derisively.

"He bears a fat purse, Milady."

"A gift?" she asked, reservedly.

Her attendant nodded quickly.

"Very well, show him to the library. I will meet him there."

Bowing, Felvar quickly backed away, "As you wish."

"Oh, and Felvar?" she added, "I'll be docking you a tenday's worth of pay. I had expressly requested, under no circumstances, was I to be disturbed this evening."

"My apologies Milady," he said, bowing even lower.

"Next time, I won't be as forgiving," she uttered as she brushed past him towards her personal chamber, "and prepare me some Pale Jade tea, I'm feeling a bit parched."

Pouring herself a small cup of green tea from an ornate kettle, the dark-haired woman motioned towards her guest to sit. Seating herself across from him, she took a sip of her tea.

"Ahem, with all due respect, Lady Dragonette, I realize that you are fairly new to our city and our practices, but it's customary to serve your guests first," he stated emphatically.

"Who says I'm serving you?" she replied indignantly.

"I don't see any attendants," he said looking around, before taking the proffered seat, "Am I to assume I'm to serve myself?"

"The tea is not for you."

"It's Pale Jade tea from Kara-Tur! It's truly a noble tea, something to be shared by the upper echelons of our society," he declared.

"Not for twenty gold pieces a pound, it isn't," she growled while taking another sip, "Leave the purse, state your business and begone. It's late and I have not the patience to deal with the likes of you."

Aghast, he sat back in his chair, dropping a bulging coin purse onto the table, sputtering incoherently.

"Spit it out, Zalath, I don't speak gibberish," she chastised.

Regaining his composure, he glared at her. For a moment he said nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she let her irritation show. Subtly, the room began to darken as the flames sputtered out one by one on the candles located in the sconces along the wall. A sudden chill came out from nowhere and swept through the room. Slinking around his chair, it slowly slid up his back.

His eyes going wide, he finally managed to speak, "This is about your newest … hirelings."

"My warehouse guards?" she said, smiling mischievously.

"Yes," he replied, swallowing hard, "My sire and grand-sire are asking that you remove them from your employ."

"Why?" she asked dryly.

"They are a menace to the city. They endanger our very livelihood."

"Yours perhaps, but not mine," she stated flatly, before continuing, "Why do you hate them so?"

She seemed genuinely interested in his response.

"Personal reasons," he said, shivering slightly.

"Everyone else seems to love them, even the Thultyrl."

"We … don't," he said, grabbing his cloak and wrapping himself tightly.

She took another sip of tea, watching him over the top of her small, fragile, porcelain cup. She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Is this about the Children's Plague? Are you involved, somehow? What are you hiding, Zalath?"

"Noth … nothing. I'm hiding nothing. This meeting has nothing to do with that," he stammered, making every effort to not make eye contact with her.

"Oh, but I think it does. It's quite convenient that you arrive on my doorstep, begging for the removal of my hirelings, just as they are departing to find the cure. I find this all … very fascinating," she said smiling evilly.

"We want them … gone. We are willing to offer you a generous compensation."

She leaned back in her chair, intrigued, before setting down her cup.

"Compensation, you say? What are you offering?"

"They are under contract and have they met their initial obligations, yes?" he asked softly.

"Of course," she purred.

"Then allow me to offer you a twenty-five percent stake in our salt trade venture."

Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small scroll.

"I have last quarters numbers right here, to show you…

She waved him off, her eyes twinkling.

"Twenty-five percent?" she scoffed, "Are you trying to insult me? I could make that on just the shipping fees alone."

"Thirty percent," he interjected.

"…I know some merchants in Teflamm who trade in salt …"

"Forty percent," he pleaded.

"…and the exclusive shipping rights?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"No strings attached?"

"None," he said, his eyes downcast.

Smiling, she took a moment to savor her victory, looking at Lord Deckord with a measure of satisfaction.

"Will this be a verbal agreement?" she asked.

"I can have a solicitor stop by first thing tomorrow morning. He will provide you with a written copy of our agreement for you to sign."

"For a Forty-five percent stake..."

"… For a Forty-five percent stake in Virgil Samargol's salt trade emporium as well as the exclusive shipping rights to our venture," he sighed defeatedly, his shoulders sagging visibly.

"Then we have a deal. I'll send a runner to notify my agents of their termination immediately."

"I thank you, Lady Dragonette," he said rising and bowing slightly.

"Don't thank me, Zalath Deckord. You may come to regret your dealings with me."

* * *

Pouring herself another cup of tea, her steward, Felvar, entered the library. Reaching for the small tray holding the still steaming tea-pot, the long, dark-haired woman shooed him away.

"I can take care of this myself, Felvar," she said, slightly annoyed, "I have much to think about."

"As you wish," he responded, "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Good night, Felvar," she said sternly.

Shifting his feet slightly, he asked nervously, "I couldn't help but overhearing, Milady, but haven't you already parted ways with your new hirelings? Before they left for the Great Glacier?"

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Felvar, my business is mine alone and none of yours. Your curiosity will most likely get you killed, or worse."

Looking at him over the top of her cup of tea, she smirked. Her eyes flared a yellowish color and seemed to take on a cat-like appearance. Her face contorted slightly, her nose and mouth looking elongated as small tendrils of smoke seemed to waft from her nostrils. Taking a step back, he gasped slightly. Realizing his discomfort, she allowed a predatory smile to spread across her features, her teeth long and sharp.

"Be mindful of what you say and to whom you speak it to. I'm not known for my forgiving nature," she said draining her cup, the illusion fading away from her features.

"I meant no disrespect, Milady," he said taking another step back and bowing, visibly shaken.


	3. Chapter 3: Hiromoto

The light streaming from the small, barred window barely illuminated the entire cell. Catching the final rays of sunlight, the dust motes spun lazily through the air, seemingly without a care, ignoring the living creatures present within the confines of the stone walls.

Avoiding the light, four creatures huddled, each in their own corner. All were battered and bruised, clothed in rags and sandals. Intent on keeping to themselves, they left each other to their own thoughts. All was quiet until the largest of the four occupants began to hack and cough, spitting globules of mucus and blood into the sand around him.

Coughing up a large wad of blood, the fur covered beast slumped against the wall, his breathing becoming haggard and shallow. Blood was pooling at his feet as the sand beneath him began to form clumps, absorbing his leaking bodily fluids. An awful smell wafted from several deep cuts and wounds across the beast's chest and abdomen. As he slowly toppled over, a creature with green, warty skin, and two long ears poking from a mop of black hair, scampered over to the beast, gingerly placing a hand upon its chest.

Grabbing the beast's tunic, the goblin began to tear it into strips, placing each strip over a foul-smelling wound. Wincing slightly before roaring in pain, the fur covered beast bared his pointed teeth, several of them notably missing.

The smallest of the group, his skin covered in mottled red scales and his eyes swollen nearly shut from the beating he had taken, spoke in a high pitched, though clear form, of the common tongue.

"How fares Storgank?" it barked, slowly crawling over to the prone, fur-covered beast.

"No good. Wound smelly. Infection. Dead soon. Not long," said the goblin in a nasally voice, shaking its head.

"Why … you … say … it," coughed the fur covered beast, lifting his head from the sandy floor, "Me … not dead … yet …"

"Soon, friend Gank, soon," said the goblin, resting his hands on the shoulders of the fur covered beast and gently pushing him back to the sand, "Rest. Not long."

The beast's body shook as he was racked by several harsh coughs, spitting up phlegm and blood-filled mucus, "No die like this … die in battle … not … like this …"

Turning to face his red-scaled companion, the goblin shook his head, "Zahsi, it's time. His god will have him."

"The gods have no power here. They have forsaken us. Hruggek won't take him. His soul will be lost. He'll be forsaken. There will be no afterlife for him."

"Blasphemy!" spat the goblin.

"Truth," replied the kobold.

"You act human. You speak human. You think human. But you no human. Kobold know bugbear death rite. Speak bugbear death rite," said the goblin angrily.

The kobold sighed, turning to look at his dying friend.

Placing a hand on the beasts' forehead and one hand on his chest, the kobold breathed deeply, "Peace be with you, Storgank. May your sword strike true, may you bathe in the blood of your enemies and may Hruggek accept your sacrifice and welcome you home."

The fur-covered beast grinned slightly, "Zahsi … friend," he croaked. Turning to look at the goblin, he managed to groan, "Crichik … friend."

"Yes, you are with friends. Go in peace. Be with your god," the kobold said soothingly, patting his shoulder.

"Where … Hiro … friend?" asked the beast looking around.

The lone human, who still sat in his corner, grunted loudly causing all heads to turn in his direction. Realizing that he would say nothing more, the creature turned back to goblin.

"Hiro ... friend?"

Shushing him, the kobold gained the bugbear's attention, "Of course he is your friend. We are all friends here. Now go, be with your god."

"I … go … now …" the bugbear breathed one last time, the life slowly ebbing from his body.

For a few moments, all was quiet, as both the goblin and kobold bowed their heads in silence. The human remained quiet, not bothering to look in their direction.

Rubbing his hands together, the goblin got up, grabbed the sandals from the feet of the bugbear and scampered back to his corner.

"Mine. He no need them," he chattered.

Shaking his head, the kobold eased closer to the human.

"Why did you ignore Storgank like that?"

The human turned to look at the badly beaten kobold. The kobold returned his gaze, noting the tousled hair, the gashes across his face and the partially missing ear. And yet, his eyes were undamaged, a perfect shade of blue, fierce, and full of defiance. Grek the Ogre hadn't beaten it out of him, yet. And the arena hadn't broken him. Hiromoto was a fine warrior, a fan favorite. But fame is a fickle beast and can turn on you as fast as it embraces you. When your fame dies, so do you.

"He was dying," the human said, bringing Zahsi out of his reverie.

"Yes, yes he was. He asked for you. He wanted to be with his friends. You once called him friend."

"He was foolish when he charged the beast-cat. He should have listened to me."

"His fame was waning. He wanted to die in battle."

"There was no honor in his death."

"We are slaves to Grek," the kobold said tugging at the iron ring in his ear, "We don't have the luxury of honor."

"Honor is all I have, reptile," Hiro spat, "Without honor I have nothing."

"Without friends and allies, you have nothing," Zahsi said motioning to the dead beast, "He was our best shot, and now he's dead. Even you can't kill everything that Grek sends our way."

"If only I had my sword…"

"Always whining about your sword, your beloved ancestral sword. You need to wise up, Hiro. Virmaris has your sword and he's not going to give it back to you anytime soon. You will need the weapons that you have been given."

"The weapons I have are weak and useless. Until the Orc arrives, I have nothing."

"Until the Orc arrives. Always with the Orc. What is so special about this Orc?"

"He is Braak. He is our salvation," growled the human.

"You mean your salvation. This Orc means nothing to me."

"In time, you will see the error of your thoughts. He is as much my savior as he is yours. Leave me now."

Shaking his head, thinking his companion was as crazy as ever, the kobold slowly scampered away.


	4. Chapter 4: Hiromoto pt 2

Hiromoto sat on his small, cushioned throne, watching as the half-orc known as Maskalock Braak was led from his audience chamber. He was not impressed, not in the slightest. The brute had no honor, no noble bearing, no moral code of conduct; he fought and killed for the sheer joy of it. He was a beast, his humanity sorely missing.

Noting the various scars stitched across his muscular body, Hiromoto could appreciate what the half breed had gone through in the arena. But nothing about the beast-man convinced him that he was their salvation, the key to their release, the means to end his curse.

No, something wasn't right. Something was missing, he just couldn't put his finger on it. And then it came to him and he turned to his left, calling out harshly, "Zahsi."

When he heard no reply, he hissed loudly, "Dammit, Zahsi, where in the Nine-Hells are you?"

A small reptilian creature stepped from behind the throne, his dull red scales covered in dust. Hands cupped together, hiding something small within them, the kobold looked up at him and gave him a toothy grin.

"I am here, at your beck and call, as always," it said with a flourish.

"It took you long enough," Hiro grumbled.

"I was feeling a bit peckish, so I did a little hunting. Besides, your meetings are so very boring," it said nibbling on some small animal bones within its hands before carelessly discarding them.

Hiromoto glared at the obstinate kobold.

"That's not what you're supposed to do," he growled, "you are supposed to advise me!"

"I'm a survivor, not an advisor. But since you are being so persistent, I'll give you some advice," it said with a dismissive wave of its tiny clawed hand.

Limping over to small plate of fruit, the kobold grabbed a firm yellow pear and bit into it, allowing the juices to run down its jaw and into his well-worn tunic. Turning to face Hiro, it grinned mischievously, "As your advisor, I advise you to utilize the tool that you've been given, before he's killed in the arena."

Hiro sneered at the kobold, "I should have let you die alongside that lazy goblin."

"Ah yes, Crichtik, how could I forget. He was a good friend. I miss him dearly."

"He was no longer useful," Hiro said, leaning back on his throne.

"You needed him; you still do, but you chose to ignore his warnings. You said the half-orc would come and he has. And there you sit on your cushy pillow, pining away for your ancestral sword. Nothing has changed."

"He's not the one!" yelled Hiro, slamming his fist into the arm of his throne.

"What do you mean, 'he's not the one'? You've talked about your premonition for months now. It's always been 'Braak this' and 'Braak that'…"

"He doesn't bear the ring."

"What ring?" the kobold said perplexed.

"The ring my daughter was to give him before he arrived here!"

"Oh, THAT ring," the scaly creature laughed before rolling its eyes at the human, "Maybe they stripped it from him?"

"He'd be missing a finger. The ring cannot be removed once it has been worn."

"Hmmm…he was covered in scars," the kobold paused, "And I did notice that he had all his fingers and toes."

"It was supposed to be him!" yelled Hiro.

"Are you sure?" question the kobold.

"Rhoda assured me it would be the half-orc. He was the only one foolish enough…"

"He does have a brother, the paladin. Could it have been him?" the kobold interrupted.

Hiro scowled, "No. Maybe. I don't know. My vision showed only a half-orc, a descendant of Craer Braak."

"Is it possible Wanda never gave him the ring?"

Hiro paused for a moment, lost in thought.

"She had to give it to someone, it's power has been activated. Someone has been wearing it," he said, dismissing the kobolds objection.

"Who would be foolish enough to have accepted it from her? I mean, no offense…" the kobold screwed up its face and chuckled, "…but she's ugly, even by orc standards."

"That's my daughter, you are ridiculing," Hiro growled.

"My apology, but the curse from Enolis…"

"Enough!" yelled Hiro, "Do not speak of him, Zahsi. His days are numbered."

"As are yours, Hiro," the kobold reminded him softy.

Angrily, the tanned human reached out and grabbed the kobold by the neck and began to squeeze. Surprised by the sudden attack, the kobold struggled in vain, trying to pry the human's fingers from its neck. Gasping and flailing, the kobold failed to remove the solid grip of the human. As it was about to black out, the human loosened his grip and watched as the kobold fell to the ground, gasping and rubbing its throat.

"Listen up, my little advisor. I tolerate you because you are still useful to me. Prove to me that you are no longer useful, and I'll feed you to the Savage Troll!"

The kobold could only nod its head, still struggling for breath.

"Send for Haberjeet. I wish to speak with him. I need to know who has that ring."

With a quick bow, the kobold replied, "As you wish."

As it scurried from the hall, a chill ran down the kobold's spine. The Troll was indeed savage. She was hideous and filthy. She was everything one would think a vicious predator would be, except for her perfect blue eyes.

She would rip her opponents apart and yet keep them alive long enough so they could watch themselves be devoured by her enormous appetite. The fact that she was Hiro's eldest daughter was no mystery, but how she ended up here, in the City of Brass, truly was.


End file.
